


That Dragon AU I Can't Think up a Title for

by GeneratorCat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, But mostly fluff and humor, M/M, Some angst, dragon!Jason, prince!Tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: Boy meets dragon.Dragon tells boy to fuck off.A love story for the ages.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tanekore wanted dragon Jason so I'm giving her dragon Jason <3
> 
> Updates will be sporadic and unplanned :D

Tim is tired and bleeding and his feet are sore and he’s hungry and just when he thinks the day can’t get any shittier, it starts to rain.

Oh, and he’s lost.

He’s been wandering around these mountains for days. He’s really fucking tired of these mountains.

He looks up from what probably used to be a walking trail but has grown over from disuse and spots a cave in the face of the mountainside; it’s some distance away but he can probably get there in an hour or so. And then he can lay down and sleep. And eat some cave-dwelling bugs. Yum, his favorite. If he survives until the morning he’ll come up with a plan to get out of this place. He needs to reach the kingdom of Gotham and he’ll do it, somehow, with or without a horse. (Fuck, he misses his horse. His feet are so sore.)

His parents are counting on him. His people are counting on him.

Rain seeps into his clothes, weighing down his tunic. He would just take the damn thing off but the air is cold enough to see puffs of his breath in front of him. Water sloshes around the inside of his boots.

When he’s almost to the cave opening the path is cut off by a shallow ravine. There’s a wooden bridge for Tim to get across. He glances over the side as he crosses and stops when he sees a skeleton lying in the dirt, the thin bones of the hand still clutching a rusted sword. Tim looks more closely and finds another, and another, and on the other side too. The ditch is littered with old bones.

Tim frowns. The bridge is stable. The ditch isn’t even that deep, maybe six feet. Not enough of a fall to kill a man.

Great. It’s probably cursed or something. That fits the theme of general suckiness that has been the past few days.

Tim glances back the way he came… and keeps going across the bridge. He’ll take his chances with the magic or evil creature or whatever.

He makes it safely to the other side.

Huh.

Okay.

The cave is only minutes away now, and Tim hurries as much as he can, his muscle protesting every step. Finally he stumbles through the opening and drops to the ground- precious dry ground. He really ought to check the place out, make sure he’s alone. There’s something fishy (magical) about the bridge to get to this place, it’s probably some witch’s hide-away. Maybe it’s a werewolf’s den. Or some other thing that will likely kill and/or eat him.

But fuck it. Tim is tired. Everything else can wait.

He sleeps.

~

“How the hell did you get in here?”

Tim shoots awake, hand flying to his side- but it’s pointless. His sword has been gone for three days. He blinks, and then blinks again.

“The fuck?”

“The fuck yourself, how did you get in here,” the dragon demands.

The dragon.

Dragon.

Something that might want to kill and/or eat him.

Blocking the entrance to the cave. Which is also the exit.

Tim slowly gets to his feet and huge, pale eyes follow his every movement. “I… walked in?”

The dragon huffs, a tiny puff of smoke coming from its nostrils. “You’re not supposed to be able to! There’s like, enchantments and shit!”

“What- why?” Tim asks, and maybe this is all some freaky fever-induced dream. He’s talking to a dragon. A dragon is talking to him. Speaking.

Sure, dragons are known to be smart- as smart as people- and they communicate really well with their riders or with each other, but. They don’t speak.

But this one does.

(Magic. Again. Probably.)

“Fuck if I know why, the witch set it up.” The dragon tosses his head contemptuously. “But no one’s ever made it across the bridge before.”

“So am I not supposed to be here? I don’t want to trespass on a witch’s territory.”

He spreads his leathery wings a little, but there’s not much room inside the cave. Big, sharp claws scratch at the dirt. “The witch fucked off years ago. You’re trespassing on _my_ territory.”

Great. In keeping with the theme of general suckiness, Tim has invaded a wild dragon’s home. Seems about right.

“You say fuck a lot,” Tim says, because he’s drained and hurting and resigned to being charred to a crisp any second. So why not.

The dragon narrows his eyes. “What are you, an idiot? You’re trespassing in an angry dragon’s lair and that’s all you have to say?”

Tim sighs. Now that the adrenaline from being startled awake is fading, his weariness is coming back in full force. Some small part of his brain registers that he should be terrified, but, “I’m just so tired, man. I haven’t eaten and I’m injured and I just came in here to get some rest. I’m sorry I’m in your home, but can I go back to sleep? I’ll leave right after, I promise.”

The dragon shifts uneasily and glances behind Tim, into the darkness that leads to, presumably, the heart of his lair.

Tim almost laughs. “I’ll stay up here. I won’t go back there; I won’t touch any of your stuff.” Like he could be a threat, in his state.

“How you do you know about my- my stuff?” the dragon asks sharply.

“All dragons hoard shit, everyone knows that.”

“Well… okay,” he says with obvious reluctance. “I guess it’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Tim mumbles. He moves to lay down but then the dragon clears his throat pointedly, smoke slipping out between his teeth. “What?”

“You’re in my way.”

“Oh, um.” Tim presses himself against the wall, rocks digging into his back, and the dragon shuffles past. Tim gets a wing to the face. He shivers when feels the heat radiating off the creature.

“Don’t come back here,” the dragon calls as his tail slides by, disappearing into the darkness.

Tim rolls his eyes and lays down and sleeps. Again.

~

The next time Tim wakes up he’s warm. He snuggles deeper under the soft, thick blanket. Then he remembers that he fell asleep in a cave and there shouldn’t be a blanket covering him. He opens his eyes.

The dragon is lying nearby, his massive head and long neck poking out from the passage that leads deeper into the cavern. He’s focused on the sky outside and hasn’t noticed Tim watching him. A thin line of fire gently falls from his open mouth with each careful exhale, enough to keep Tim wonderfully warm but from a safe distance.

Tim soaks up the heat. As he lays there he takes a closer look at the dragon. The rain has stopped and the sun shines into the mouth of the cave, letting Tim see him more clearly. He’s a deep, velvety black with dark red spikes that start on his face and run down his back. He’s the largest creature Tim has ever encountered, bigger than the elephant he saw two years ago. His snout is longer than Tim’s arm.

The fire cuts off abruptly when the dragon glances over and sees Tim looking at him, his jaws snapping shut. He pulls back a few inches.

Tim sits up and tucks the blanket around his shoulders. “Thanks for this,” he waves the blanket a little, “and the fire.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t want some fucking frozen dead guy in my entryway.”

“Who does?”

The dragon blinks at him, the thin film of his inner eyelid sliding down over his silver eyes.

Tim asks, “Why do you have a blanket?” because a creature that’s literally filled with fire wouldn’t need a scrap of wool to keep him warm, and besides it could probably only fit over like, one of his legs.

“I have lots of human stuff.”

Tim looks down at his tattered clothes. “I don’t suppose you have a new tunic and pants.”

“Of course I do,” The dragon says, sounding insulted.

“Really?”

He raises his head from the ground and says proudly, “I have _lots_ of stuff.”

“Could I-” Tim stops. Rethinks his strategy. If he just asks for the clothes, the dragon will say no. Dragons don’t share. But they love to show off. “I’d love to see your collection. I’m sure it’s really big and nice.”

“It is! It’s the best collection ever. But it’s _private_.”

“Oh. Hm.”

“What?”

“It’s just... how do you know it’s the best?”

The dragon taps his claws. “What do you mean?”

Tim shrugs, and then winces when it pulls at the cut on his side. Hopefully the dragon has hoarded some medical supplies. “No one’s ever seen it?”

“No.”

“And have you seen any other dragon’s collection?”

“...No.”

“Well, if you have nothing to compare it to, you can’t really say it’s the best.”

Tim hears a thumping noise. The dragon is swishing his tail against the walls.

“I’d be happy to check it out and confirm,” Tim offers. “Trust me, I’ve seen loads of collections.”

Tim sits very still while the dragon thinks about it. Finally he says, “You think you’re pretty fucking smart, don’t you.”

“Huh?”

The dragon rolls his eyes. “You’re trying to trick me so you can find new clothes.”

“N-no, I-”

“Oh shush. I’m vain, not stupid.” He gives a look that makes Tim want to apologise. “But I am going to let you see my stuff, because I’ve never had the opportunity to show off for anyone.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, come on.” The dragon stands and turns around, whacking Tim with his tail in the process. “We can talk about the pants.”

~

The dragon leads Tim down a winding passageway that grows darker and darker as they move deeper into the mountain and further away from the sunlight. Tim places one hand on the wall to guide him, until the dragon lights the way with a small, rolling stream of fire that casts strange shadows against the rocks and around the dragon itself, each of his spikes becoming more prominent, sharper. Eventually Tim can feel the space opening up around him and the dragon stops, shoots his fire up and it catches on something, spreads, and lights the room. It’s clever, really, firewood stacked on a ledge that runs around the perimeter of the space, creating a ring of light from above.

They’re standing in a wide cavern with a tall ceiling. There’s enough space for the dragon to spread his wings, which he does, swooping them open in an impressive display. Tim watches until the dragon seems satisfied, and then he looks around the stone room. There’s a living space in one corner- nest of furs, a table, and another passage leading out of the room- and a pile of junk in the other.

“Is this… your collection?”

“Obviously. Look how grand and special my things are.”

 _Grand_ and _special_ are not the words Tim would use. The largest item is an open trunk made of rough wood with brittle leather straps looped through rusted locks. Inside Tim can see some clothes, a cracked hand mirror, a wooden bowl and a bent metal spoon. A few books with broken spines. There’s a tin cup filled with assorted smaller items- coins and buttons and a thimble.

“Well?” The dragon inches forward. “It’s pretty great, right?”

“Um, yeah. So great.”

“Okay, I know it’s probably not as big as some other dragons’ collections, but you gotta take into account the fact that everything here is stuff I’ve found on the mountain. None of it is stolen, and it’s all local.”

Tim turns around, looks up- and up- at the dragon. “You didn’t steal any of this?”

“No!” He says, rocking his head from side to side. “I found all of it. The people that travel through drop things, and I bring them back here. And it’s hard to grab small things with these claws. It took hours to carry that thimble back because I had to hook it on the tip of my claw and then it would fall off when I flew.”

In that light, the pile is more impressive. “People left behind this much shit in these mountains?”

“This is just what I’ve found in my territory- the mountain we’re in and halfway through the valley to the next one.”

“Why not explore past that?”

“I can’t go any further. It’s part of that fucking curse or whatever; every time I try to fly away I end up right back here.”

Tim makes a little sympathetic noise. “That sucks.”

The dragon tosses his head back and shoots a fireball into the air. “And blows.”

Tim laughs. He reaches inside the trunk, wondering how someone lost an entire trunk on the road. “You mind?”

“Go ahead.”

From the assortment of clothes he finds a few pieces that might fit. “Would you be willing to part with these?”

The dragon shifts, a low grumbling sound coming from his throat.

“You really don’t need them,” Tim reasons. “And they’re not even that pretty to look at.”

“They’re not,” he concedes.

“So?”

“...Fine, take them.”

“Thank you,” Tim sighs, and he drops the blanket and pulls his still-damp tunic over his head.

“Fuck, man!” The dragon spins around, putting his back to Tim and holding out his wings to block him from view. “Warn a guy, will ya?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Tim works off his boots and strips off his shirt and pants, dropping his sodden clothes onto the floor. He takes a moment to inspect the cut on his side, just below his ribs, unwrapping the scrap of fabric he’d ripped from the bottom of his shirt. The slice isn’t too deep, luckily, or else he would have bled out by now, but he should do what he can to patch it up. Later. He tucks the wrap back into place.

The new clothes aren’t as nice as his, and they smell a little musty, but they’re dry and warm. They’re too big, but it’ll have to do. At least they stay on, with help from a belt that he finds in the trunk. There aren’t any new shoes that fit well enough, so he’ll just have to wait for his own to dry out.

“Okay, I’m done.”

The dragon peeks over his wing, and then turns around when he’s satisfied that Tim is decent. “You’re so small.”

“What?”

“I mean, you look small to me, because I’m so big, but you’re so tiny in those clothes.”

“Maybe the man who owned these was just really tall and fat.”

“He was not fat!”

“How do you know?”

“I-”

“Wait,” Tim interrupts. He points to a makeshift table next to the nest of furs. “Is that food?”

“Yeah.”

Tim’s stomach growls. “Could I have some?”

The dragon glances from Tim to the chunk of meat sitting on the wooden board. “Yeah, sure. You’re so tiny, you can’t eat much of it anyway.”

Tim wants to argue the tiny point again, but he’s too focused on the food. He walks over to the huge piece of meat. “Do you have a knife I can use to cut some off?”

The dragon carefully picks through his belongings until he comes up with a sword, held delicately between the points of two claws. Tim carefully takes it from him. It’s not nearly as nice as the one he lost to the bandits, the blade is chipped and the leather wrapped around the grip is cracking, but it’s sharp enough for this.

“Thanks.” Tim cuts off a section and spears it on the end of the sword. “Would you mind cooking it? I can’t eat it raw like you.”

“Oh! Hm. I haven’t done this in a long time...” The dragon considers the meat that Tim holds up and away, and then he gently blows a stream of fire down on it. Tim can feel the heat on his hand and arm from the other end of the sword.

It ends up mostly charred on the outside, still plenty red in the inside, but Tim is not in a position to be picky. “Thank you,” he says heavily, mouth full. He finishes quickly.

“Good?”

Tim hums in appreciation, licking the grease off his lips. “Yeah.”

“I think his name was John.”

“...What?”

The dragon jerks his chin toward the remaining meat. “John.”

Tim freezes. His stomach churns.

The dragon laughs. “Oh, fuck, you should see your face!”

Tim drops to the floor, sitting cross-legged and burying his face in his hands. “That’s not funny!”

“It really was!”

“You’re horrible, that was horrible.”

“Not for me it wasn’t.”

“I can’t believe you would- wait.” Tim looks up. “I have to make sure; you don’t really eat people, right?”

The dragon sits down with a huff, folding over his legs and curling his tail around him in a way that reminds Tim of a cat. Except for the scales and spikes. “No, I don’t eat people. Fucking gross. That was a sheep.”

Tim grins. “I don’t know, you’re probably just trying to fatten me up so you can eat me. I see how it is.”

The dragon pulls a disgusted face. "Ew, no. Besides there's no meat there," he says, flicking the end of his tail in Tim’s direction.

"Hey,” Tim protests, “I have meat! I am satisfactorily meaty!"

Why is he trying to convince a dragon to eat him? Oh right. Because he's been lost for days and he's going crazy. Clearly his last chicken had flown the coop. Mm, chicken would be good right now.

“You keep on thinking that… What’s your name?”

“Timothy Drake. Tim.”

“I’m Jason.”

“You have a name?” Tim asks, surprised. The only dragons he knows of that have names are ones that are bonded to a rider, and the rider gave them their name. A wild dragon wouldn’t be named, unless he was at some point bonded, and that… Oh. This dragon, _Jason_ , must have once had a rider that named him, and the fact that he’s out here in the wilderness now, alone, means his rider is dead. Or was cruel enough for Jason to run away.

“Of course I have a fucking name.”

“What happened to your rider?” Tim asks gently.

Jason frowns at him. “I never had one.”

“What? Then, who gave you your name?”

“My mother.”

“Your… mother. Named you Jason.”

“What, didn’t your mother name you Timothy?”

“My father, actually.”

“Ah, well, my father wasn’t around, so.”

“So your mother named you.”

“Exactly.”

Tim’s too tired for this shit. None of it makes any sense. A wild, talking dragon who doesn’t steal, magically trapped on a mountain, with a name but no rider.

Maybe his mother was able to speak too, and that’s how she named him.

Whatever. It doesn’t really matter _how_ Jason got his name, or if he ever was bonded.

Tim sighs. “Do you have any medical supplies?”

“You’re hurt?”

“It’s not too bad, but...” Tim lifts the hem of his shirt and uncovers the bandage enough to show the long, thin slash. Jason leans down, stretching out his long neck to get a closer look.

“I think there might be some needles and thread. I don’t have bandages or medicine, but you can clean it over there.” Jason jerks his head toward the second passage. “There’s a creek that runs through the mountain and I made a damn so it pools in that chamber.”

Tim stands and ducks into the opening, and he can see now that the passage only runs for a few feet before opening up into a small, low room. Jason couldn’t possibly fit inside here.

“What do you use this for?” He asks, approaching the little pond being fed by a waterfall coming from the ceiling in the back, cascading over the wall.

“This.” Jason pokes his head though- the only part of him that can make it- and laps at the water with his long, pointed tongue. “I’ll, uh. Let you clean up.”

“You don’t mind,” Tim calls after him, “me bathing in your drinking water?”

“It’ll recycle though soon enough, it’s fine,” he answers, voice drifting in from the main room.

Tim strips again- and wishes he could’ve gotten clean before he put on the new clothes, but it’s fine, he’s grateful for anything considering how fucked he was yesterday- and leaves them on a dry rock. The pool is cool but not unbearable, and it feels good to scrub off the mud splattered on his arms and face. He carefully washes the cut, and then he just lets himself float for a minute, the water holding him up and letting his feet rest.

Jason’s head peeks into the room, the wool blanket hanging from his teeth, and he quickly drops it onto the ground, eyes squeezed shut the whole time. “For you to dry off, sorry,” he says, already retreating.

Tim wonders why Jason went from begrudgingly letting Tim sleep in the mouth of his cave to taking care of him like this. He’s probably lonely. He said no one’s ever made it to the cave before, and he can’t leave the mountain. Plus, the whole _talking dragon_ thing would be off-putting even if he did get the chance to meet someone, human or dragon. Tim might be the first social interaction Jason’s had since he was trapped here. How long has that been? How long has Jason been isolated, trapped, alone.

People travel through the valley. Has Jason tried to talk to those people? Did they try to fight him off, or run away screaming? Did they try to hunt him? There are still people out there that hunt wild dragons. The skeletons in the ditch outside were all armed with swords or spears, were those men here for that?

Tim feels sick at the thought.

He climbs out of the water and dries off. He pulls on the too-big clothes and this time it feels comforting, like being a little kid again. He’s clean and full and rested and just yesterday he honestly thought he was going to die. He thought everything his parents had worked for over the last few years was going to be lost, and his people were going to suffer. Because of him.

Well, because of the raiders that ambushed him, but. He still feels guilty.

Back in the main room Jason is rummaging through his things, carefully moving items around with his claws or tail. Tim joins him, sidling up next to him.

“What are you looking for?”

“Oh!” Jason jumps, his wings snapping out and narrowly missing catching Tim in the head before he ducks out of the way. “Fuck, you’re quiet,” he hisses.

Tim laughs a little until he realises that Jason isn’t used to having someone around, someone to come up next to him and start talking.

“I could have sworn there was- aha! Here it is.” Jason pulls out a sewing kit and drops it into Tim’s hand. “For stitches.”

“That’s great, thank you,” Tim says, inspecting the box. A couple of the needles are rusted, but one of them looks in good enough shape. He takes it out along with some dark blue thread, and sets the needle on a nearby rock. “Could you throw some fire at it? It’ll help me not get infected.”

Jason nods and treats the needle to a few quick bursts of flame. After waiting a minute for it to cool down Tim picks it up.

“Perfect. Now the fun part.” Tim sits and lays out his instruments in his lap. He pulls up his shirt and holds it in place with his teeth, which will also give him something to bite down on, and he’ll need that soon. Threading the needle, he asks, “So were they here to hunt you?”

Jason, who’s been watching very intently, glances up, then quickly back to Tim’s hands. “Who?”

“The men in the ravine.”

Tim has already finished the first stitch by the time Jason answers. “Yeah.”

“Did you kill them?” The words are muffled by the fabric and his clenched jaw, but they’re simple and even, without accusation.

The answer is much faster this time. “No.”

Stitch number four is a doozy. This shit _hurts_. “What happened to them?”

“The curse.”

“Th- fucking _shit_ \- the curse.”

“The witch, remember? She left some spell or whatever that wouldn’t let them across the bridge. It killed them the second they touched it.”

“Why?” He’s almost done.

“I don’t know.”

Almost done. “You don’t know?”

“She didn’t want anyone to come up here.”

“Because of you.”

“Yeah.”

Tim ties off the last stitch. “Can you pass me the sword?”

Jason does. Tim cuts the thread and leans back against the wall behind him, breathing hard. He drops his shirt and closes his eyes.

“And she cursed you so that you can’t leave here.”

Jason growls.

“Got it.” Tim looks up at him. “But I’m here.”

“I don’t know why. She said _no one_ would ever make it across.”

“Well, I live to disappoint. What happens when you try to fly away?”

Jason growls again, and this time Tim feels a hint of heat underneath it. “I just end up right back here. It’s like, my mind drifts off and I snap back into focus and I’m back in the cave. I’ve tried over and over but I can’t help it, can’t keep my brain on track.”

Tim hums, considering. Finally he says, “I need to sleep again.”

Jason bobs his head. It makes Tim smile because his whole neck rolls with the motion. “In that case I’m gonna go hunting. I finished off the meat while you were bathing.”

“Alright, have fun.” Tim lays down, sad that the blanket is wet from when he used it to dry off.

On his way past Jason grabs a dress from the trunk and tosses it over Tim.

Tim smiles and tugs it more fully over himself. It’ll do.

~

Dinner is deer, slightly less blackened. (Still pretty black.)

“You’re getting better.”

Jason’s chest puffs out a little. “I’m a fast learner. It won’t be long until I get it just right, you’ll see.”

“Actually…” Tim sets aside the rest of his portion. “I don’t think I will. I need to leave soon.”

“What?” Jason’s wings come in tight against his body. His tail wraps around his leg.  

“I have a really important job to do. I was on my way to negotiate a treaty, but I was ambushed by some people that don’t want that to happen. I need keep going and finish the job.”

“Right, of course,” Jason spits. “You have actual important stuff going on. You’re not trapped here.”

“Jason-”

“Well what are you waiting for, huh? Just fucking go already.”

“I don’t wa-”

“Get the hell out!” Jason roars, his voice booming throughout the cave, rattling Tim’s bones. Tim scrambles out of the way, narrowly missing getting burned from the flames pouring out of Jason.

Tim shouts, “Jason, stop! Listen to me!”

“Why? You’re just gonna leave! And where will I be, Tim? Right here, forever!”

“Come with me!”

Jason pauses, his chest heaving, the air filled with smoke. “What?”

“Leave with me,” Tim says, inching over so that Jason isn’t between him and the exit.

“I told you I can’t, you fucking idiot.”  

“Maybe you can, if I’m with you.”

“Why would that make a fucking difference?”

“I don’t really know why,” Tim admits, “but you don’t know why I was able to cross the bridge, right? For whatever reason the spell let me pass, so maybe it’ll let you go if I’m with you.”

Jason’s eyes flicker, like he’s calculating the logic of this in his head. “You want to ride me.”

“We can walk if you want. But yeah, riding would be faster.”

“You wanna be my rider,” he growls, eyes narrowed.

“No! No, I’m not asking for that- I’m not asking you to bond.”

“Good, cause I won’t.” Jason’s wings, spread open and poised for attack, slowly retreat into their resting position. Tim lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing.

Tim says, “I can’t promise it’ll work, but I want to try. Don’t you? Don’t you wanna get out of this place?”

“Of course I do,” Jason snaps, but he looks hesitant, confused. Scared.

“Does it hurt? When you try to fly away and the spell brings you back, does it hurt you at all?”

“No.”

“Then there’s no reason not to give it a shot, right?”

“I… Where would I go?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Jason gives a harsh shake of his head. “You know that’s not true, Tim. I’d either have to bond with someone or. Just. Find another lair and have people try and hunt me. At least here I don’t have to kill them myself, I’m protected.”

“You’re imprisoned.”

“I know, and I fucking hate it! But really, it’s my best option. I can’t bond, and this is the safest place for me.”

“I’ll protect you,” Tim says, taking a step closer. “Come with me and I’ll make sure no one touches you.”

“How can you make a promise like that? You’re tiny, remember?”

Tim rolls his eyes but he can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips. “Just trust me, okay?”

Jason gives him a sceptical once-over, but seems to accept that. For now. He looks over at his collection. “I’d have to leave all my stuff,” he says sadly.

“You could have new stuff. Really nice, shiny stuff.”

“Now you’re trying to bribe me,” Jason huffs. “You’re really not as clever as you think you are.”

“Well it’s working, isn’t?”

“It’s not really the things that I care about, it’s the fact that I worked hard to get them.”

“I get that.” Jason shoots him a look. “I do! But I can offer you a lot more. And if you want I’ll even leave them on a road so you can collect them.” Tim’s half joking but Jason seems to like the idea.

Jason flicks his tail. “What kind of stuff are we talk about here?”

“Anything you want. A whole castle full of shit.”

“A castle...” Jason looks at Tim closely. “Drake,” he says slowly. “Timothy Drake. Of… of the royal Drakes.”

Tim smiles. “You got it.”

Jason closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, fire-free but smoking. Eventually he says, “Don’t expect me to bow or any of that shit. I’m not calling you _Lord_ or _Sir_ or _Prince_.”

“No, please don’t.”

“Long as we’re on the same page about that.”

“So does that mean you’ll leave with me?”

“Yeah,” Jason sighs, heavily put-upon. “I guess you need me to. You’d never make it alone. Look at those little legs, they can barely hold you up. And you don’t even have any fire, how could you protect yourself?”

“You’re right,” Tim agrees, deadpan. “Only you with your fierce claws and huge wings could keep me safe, Jason.”

“Damn right.”                        

“It'd be so easy for you to take care of me with your impressive teeth and strong legs. I wouldn't stand a chance without you.”

“Yes, I am quite magnificent and capable.”

Tim holds out a hand. Jason considers it, tapping his claws on the ground. Finally he offers the tip of his tail, and Tim shakes it.

“Now let’s figure out how this is going to work.”

~

Being raised a prince, Tim was taught everything from cartography to swordsmanship.

Well, almost everything.

He has plenty of experience riding horses.

He does not, however, know how to ride a dragon.

“This is… an issue.” Tim says, stretching up to poke the end of one of the spikes running down Jason’s back. They’re only a few inches long, but sharp enough to draw blood from Tim’s fingertip. “You really weren’t built for this. These spikes are a problem because I’d really like to keep my balls, thanks.”

Jason twists his neck around so he can watch. “Stop fuckin’ prodding at me. There’s nothing I can do about them.”

“Hm. Maybe if I lay the blanket over you like a saddle-” Jason interrupts with a low, irritated noise. “Wha- I don’t know what your problem is.”

“‘M not your horse,” Jason grumbles.

“Oh get over it. People ride dragons, I’m not being disrespectful.”

When Jason doesn’t answer Tim continues, “If I get enough padding, hopefully they won’t poke through. But first, I need to be able to get up there. Do you have any ideas?”

Jason’s laying on his belly and Tim is only just able to see over his back. His side is smooth scales, offering no traction and nothing for Tim to grab and haul himself up with aside from the spikes. The very sharp spikes. That he can barely reach.

Suddenly Jason’s tail wraps around Tim’s legs and lifts him up.

“Woah!” Tim flails, leans forward to brace himself against Jason’s body. “Okay, that’ll work. You can set me down now please.”

Jason does, and Tim grabs the wool blanket, thankfully dried out.

Then he spots Jason’s nest.

“Tim, you brilliant bastard!” Tim cries.

“Are you praising yourself?”

“You’re so smart!”

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“A smart dork,” Tim says, selecting a few furs from the pile. “These will work so much better, and then I can keep the blanket for myself.”

He runs back over to Jason’s side, arms full. “Okay lift me up.”

It’s a bit of an ungraceful scramble for Tim to get himself balanced on Jason’s back. Luckily it’s wide enough for him to kneel off to the side of the spikes without falling right off again. He lays out the pelts, stacking them until a Tim-sized spot is covered, and then tentatively throws one leg over and sits down. He can feel the raised points, but not enough to hurt.

“Perfect!” Tim slides down Jason’s side, hitting the ground with a thump. He claps his hands once. “Next, I’ll need a way to hold on. What about…. reins?”

“Reins,” Jason echos flatly. “Once again, I’m not your fucking horse.”

“It’s not uncommon for a rider to use reins with their dragon! Besides, I won’t put it through your mouth; I don’t need to direct you. You fly as you like and I can just talk to you if I think we need to change direction. This will just be around your neck so I have something to hold onto.”

Jason lays his head down, his whole body shuddering with a long-suffering sigh.

Tim takes that as enthusiastic endorsement and gathers up the rest of the clothing from the trunk. He cuts the fabric into strips and braids them together, forming a rope.

“I really think you should be more excited about this,” he says as he works.

“What makes you think I’m not excited?”

“The pouting is a pretty good indication.”

“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding; there’s a difference.”

“Fine, then, why are you brooding?”

“I…” Jason shifts, like he’s trying to get comfortable. Tim thinks that’s not going to help since it’s the conversation making Jason uncomfortable. “I haven’t been around people in a long time. Last night when I came home and found you here, all I wanted was for you to leave.”

“Wow, I never would have guessed, with you being so hospitable and all. ‘Don’t come back here’,” he mimicks in an angry, rough tone.

Jason glares, and then turns his back to Tim.

“No, wait, come back,” Tim sighs. He’s not great with this sort of stuff but he can do better than that. “This is serious feelings time, I’m sorry.”

Tim keeps braiding, waiting. A few minutes later Jason turns halfway around, not facing Tim but keeping him in his peripheral. Progress.

“For years I’ve had people either try to attack me or run away from me, but most of the time I’ve been alone. And then you showed up and you just. Talked to me. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Is this an apology?”

“No,” Jason snaps. “Stop interrupting. And keeping you from freezing to death throughout the night was the apology. What I’m saying is, I’m… nervous. About being around people again. I’m not used to it. Just you being here is weird for me.”

Tim waits a moment and then asks, “Can I say something now?”

“Sure.”

“Once we get to the castle you won’t need to worry about anyone trying to hurt you. I’ll protect you. Being a prince tends to have its advantages, like everyone doing whatever you say. On the way there it might get tricky, because the people that live in those small towns and villages probably won’t recongise me, but I think we’ll be able to stay out of sight fairly well.”

Tim ties off his rope. He's proud of it, given what he had to work with. He approaches Jason. “Can I loop this around your neck?”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he leans down so Tim can reach. Tim throws the rope over and ties it, leaves it hanging in a loose circle around Jason’s neck.

“As far as the social aspect, it’ll take time for you to adjust. All I can offer is to stay with you, right by your side, if that helps.”

“It might,” Jason mumbles.

“And hey, now you look so pretty with your fur saddle and braided necklace. You’ll make friends in no time.”

Jason snaps his teeth at Tim, making him jump back a step.

“I sure hope that was playful.”

Jason shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“It’ll be okay,” Tim promises, coming in close. Slowly, he rests a hand on Jason’s nose, and Jason watches him closely, but doesn’t shake him off. “You’ll protect me and I’ll protect you.”

“Sappy fuckin’ dork,” Jason says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim drops his hand. “Now I’m gonna pack up my meager belongings and then, buddy, you and I are getting out of here.”

~

Tim’s knapsack contains his tattered (but still wearable) clothes, the sword, the sewing kit, wool blanket, and a book that Jason had insisted come along. He slings his bag over his shoulder and Jason hoists him up to his back. Tim settles in, taking hold of the rope. “If I fall off it’d be super uncool of you not to catch me.”

“Don’t wanna be uncool.” Tim can _hear_ the eye-roll.

They stand at the mouth of the cave, looking out over the valley. They had discussed waiting until the morning, one last night of ensured shelter, but Jason is more than ready to finally leave.

The sun is sinking low in the sky.

Tim sure hopes this works.

“Okay?”

Jason is practically pawing at the ground. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay.”

Jason’s wings spread out, he takes a few steps and flaps and then-

Then they’re in the air.

It’s terrifying.

It’s exhilarating.

Tim screams.

He flattens himself to the back of Jason’s shoulders, gripping the rope hard with white fingers. He can feel Jason’s muscles moving under him, his wings working and his whole body following the motion. The cave opening grows smaller and the land is so very far below them, and Tim realises how much trust he’s putting in Jason, whom he’s only known for two days.

But he knows that he’s safe.

“Tim.” Jason’s voice sounds off, muffled by the wind whipping around them, but also distant in a different way. “Tim,” he says again, more urgently.

His mind is starting to drift.

He’s starting to turn, flying back the way they came. Back to the mountain.

“No!” Tim hauls himself up Jason’s neck, straining to reach as close to his head as possible. The spikes are digging into his chest. “Listen to me, Jason! You can do this- we can do this. You see those pine trees ahead? You just focus on those, and the sound of my voice. You fly right for those pine trees and we’ll be okay and you’ll be free. I know you can do it.”

Tim keeps talking, and Jason heads for the pine trees.

They fly right over the valley, leaving the mountain behind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a lot of fun with this AU. I'd love to hear what you think of it so far :)


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